


Predictable

by nogoaway



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nogoaway/pseuds/nogoaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just porn. And maybe a feeling or two? But mostly porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predictable

**Author's Note:**

> This pornographic fanfiction about gay space marine bros is brought to you by fandom treasure epsilondonut: http://epsilondonut.tumblr.com/post/101735974510/please-revoke-my-fanart-license

North’s hands slide down York’s thighs to tuck under his knees and lift them a little, making York inch forward on the bed as far as the ropes will allow. Then North’s up against him, firmly pressing his hips to York’s ass and christ, he’s so hard; even through the undersuit and York’s briefs he’s hard and huge and York wants this _so badly_ -

"Come on," he groans, and lifts his own hips a little, trying to grind but there’s nothing there but air, and North’s hands are setting his legs back down "North, fuck, come _on_ , man-“

Warmth lapsing over him, breath by his ear. York blinks his blind eye helplessly, as if he does it enough times he’ll be able to see. It’s strange how it takes so little- the eyepatch over the right side for a change and he’s in complete darkness.

"You’re beautiful like this," North murmurs, lips brushing against his hairline, ghosting over his eyebrows, his nose "just- trusting me. Beautiful."

"You’re so predictable," York should be disgusted with North, at how _feely_ he is, but it actually makes him choke up a little and so he falls back on teasing instead of reflecting on how nice it is, to be cared about, to be put first “big brother. You like it when I need you, huh?”  
North draws back, cheek bumping against York’s. His skin is very, very hot.

"Dude," York says, and he does laugh a little this time, but fondly "are you _blushing_?”

"You know, it’s generally considered rude to laugh at your sexual partners," North informs him, a bit primly.

"You _are_ ,” York grins, feels the patch shift along his cheek “you _are_ blushing.”

Silence, save for some rustling. North still isn’t touching him. York gives him a minute, then gets impatient and wriggles a little.  
"Aw come on, man, don’t pout. Come back here."

"I’m not pouting," North grumbles, and stretches out on top of York again, chest to chest and hip to hip. The suit is gone- it’s just skin, and the weight and breadth of him, pressing York back into the mattress.

York groans in mingled frustration and relief. North’s cock is _right there_ but he’s _not moving_ and it’s _not enough_. When York grinds his hips up to get some friction, North’s hands come down and stop him, holding him still. His thumbs rub over the elastic of York’s briefs, tucking under the waistband and then slipping away. If anyone had told him a week ago that North was a tease in bed, he’s not sure he would have believed them- but he also hadn’t pegged North for the kind of guy who knows eight different slip knots and keeps a length of nylon rope in his trunk and yet still _blushes during sex,_ so clearly York needs to recalibrate his kink-dar-

York’s train of thought rockets wildly off the rails as North grabs him through the cotton- fuck, his hands are huge- rubs at his cock and balls, clenches lightly around nearly all of him. It feels good, yeah, but also possessive, and York likes that more than he’s ready to admit. A full-body shudder jerks down from his clenched fists, ripples over his chest and stomach, twitches into his legs. North takes mercy on him, gives him one last squeeze and then drags the elastic waistband down far enough that the head of York’s cock, throbbing and damp with pre, flops out onto his stomach. The cold air on the thin skin there makes him feel even more sensitive, and York tugs uselessly at the ropes because all he wants in life right now is a hand around his dick- ten million creds and number one on the leaderboard? He’ll pass, thanks.

North’s face is still hot where it presses against his, still _blushing_. Because of what York said? What had he said? York’s mind is muddled, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than how fucking _hard_ he is, but- right. That was it.

"North," he starts, and the hitch in his breath isn’t entirely for show, " _need_ you.”

He can _feel_ North’s dick twitch, pressed into the hollow where York’s thigh meets his pelvis, hot and swollen against the cotton of his briefs. Bingo.

"Yeah," York breathes, tilting his head and hiding his smile in North’s hair "need you so bad, man. You gonna take care of me?"

North huffs breath onto York’s collarbone, makes his ‘I’m unmoved by your childish attempt to manipulate me’ noise, but his hands soften where they’re gripping York’s hips, slide up and down his sides and stomach. York takes the opportunity to rock into North a little, wriggles until their cocks are side by side, pressed between rough, damp cotton and the smooth skin of North’s abdomen. Shit, that’s good. North agrees, judging by the groan he muffles against York’s neck.

"Yeah, like this," York’s incapable of shutting up in bed; if North minds, he’s going to have to gag him "just like this, baby, _fuck_ -“. York is going to rub himself off on North’s belly like a horny teenager in a movie theatre, and he doesn’t fucking care. Fuck, the guy has great abs, too, all dense and warm and stupidly smooth for a man his age, save for the thin trail of wiry hairs that tickle at his skin-

North kisses his neck and drags his hands down York’s sides again, petting him with broad palms, and then the weight and warmth and pressure vanishes. York really thinks he might scream.

"Wait, no, wait, don’t stop, what did I do? Did I say something dumb? I’m sorry, man, you know me, I run my mouth-"

North’s laughing at him as he drags York’s briefs all the way down to his knees, laughing as he sucks a bruise onto York’s inner thigh, nose pushing up against his balls.

_Hypocrite_ , York thinks. Or, “hypocrite”, York says, he’s not sure. He’s having difficulty hearing sounds through the ringing in his ears.

"Mmmhmm," North hums through his chuckles, wet mouth vibrating against York’s thigh. Then he grips York tight around the base with thumb and forefinger, and sinks his mouth down in one go.

"Holy shit," York gasps "I forgive you. I forgive everything. Holy shit."

North hums again, with a pitch that indicates agreement, and starts going at him with the kind of expertise York really shouldn’t be surprised by, at this point. Every stroke up, North’s hand twists just hard enough, and every time he drags back down, he lets his tongue catch under York’s head, pressing into his frenulum and running along the thin fold where his foreskin’s pulled back. York tucks his sweaty face into his arm and bites, trying to focus on something other than how good it feels, that perfect rough tempo, but he can’t help it, he’s so wound up, a minute of this and he’s gone. God, how North must look-

North pulls off him when York starts to come, lets his hand slow a little as he works York through it. York can’t stop shaking, can’t stop panting into the sore skin of his bicep, where his own teeth have left a wet crescent. Heavy drops of come land on his stomach and chest.

"Easy," North hums, and the mattress dips as he climbs up onto it, presses warm into York’s shuddering side "take it easy." His hand is still jerking York, smooth and slow and measured, but he lets go with a final warm squeeze when York starts to whimper, overstimulated.

York feels hazy and heavy and dumb, but he can still make out the tell-tale wet sound of North jerking himself off. Fuck, North’s hand has got to be covered in York’s spunk, and that’s so hot he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Definitely going in the spank bank for later.

"Lemme see," he begs, and lists towards North as far as the ropes will let him. North’s chin tucks into his neck, and he’s pressed close enough York can feel his shoulder moving, up and down, up and down.

"You trust me?" North asks, breathing unsteadily into his ear.

"God, North" York moans, and twists in the ropes again "can’t you tell? I let you- I wouldn’t let anyone else-"

"Fuck," the knuckles of North’s free hand drag over York’s face, fumbling like he can’t decide whether he’s trying to get the eyepatch off or stroke his cheek. His fingers catch on the elastic, unhook the patch from York’s ear.

York shakes his head a little, and the thing falls from his face like a scale- he opens his good eye, blinks at the stinging brightness of the room.

North’s breath, damp and hot, rolls over York’s sweaty neck. York swivels his head to bite at North’s lips, to see his face.

North’s still a little red, but York can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or concentration. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed, and York wants to run his thumbs over North’s forehead, mold the skin back to smoothness. It’s not the first time he’s had the urge- when North passes South in the hall, his forehead scrunches up like that. When the leaderboard changes, when Carolina doesn’t show up for breakfast because she’s too busy training- and all York wants is to reach up and wipe the worry from North’s face. But he can’t. Out there, they aren’t _like_ that- and in here, his hands are tied. He’s helpless, all he can do is-

"Hey," he says, and again "Hey. North. Look at me, buddy."

North’s eyes flicker open. They’re very blue.

"I trust you," York tells him "you always have my back, okay? And I have yours. So it’ll be alright."

North grunts breathily, and this close York can see light catching on his eyelashes as his face goes slack with pleasure and relief. York presses his mouth to North’s temple, feels him shudder, and shudder, and finally still.

"There you go," he murmurs, brushing his lips over sweaty hair.

"Predictable, huh?" North’s still breathing hard, but he doesn’t sit still for even a minute before he’s sitting up on his knees to unknot York from the bed frame.

"Not in the field," York reassures him, and lets North unwrap the nylon from his wrists, watches the muscles in North’s forearms twitch as he winds the length of it back around his own elbow, practiced and efficient. "Just lie down for a sec, man," York stretches his arms out, rolls his wrists experimentally "you’re harshing my glow."

To his surprise, North actually does it, after setting the coil of rope on the floor. There’s barely room for the both of them to fit on the bunk, and York finds himself curling his back into North’s chest as their legs tangle together. He wipes feebly at his legs and stomach with a handful of sheet and then gives up. He can be miserable later. He’s slept in much worse.

"Predictable," North repeats, and tucks his sharp chin over York’s shoulder.

"Uh huh. Sorry, but you’re like clockwork, dude. An open book." York swats at him, not really annoyed but also kind of put out at being little spoon. York’s not short, it’s just that all the people he works with are stupidly tall and for some reason he’s sleeping with the second-tallest of them.

"So do you predict," North slides a tight thigh between York’s legs and presses up, so firmly that York hisses "that I’m going to shower and change and leave here in twenty minutes like I always do?"

"Un—" York swallows, because if North keeps doing that with his leg he’s going to get hard again, eventually, and this is not how things normally go "unless you give me reason to think otherwise, yeah."

"So it would be a surprise," North weaves a broad hand into York’s hair and pulls, sharply, and York tingles from his scalp to his toes "if instead I stayed right here—" and that thigh presses up into his groin again, rhythmically, so nice and warm that York can’t help but grind down on it, hard or not "and fucked you so good and deep you’ll be feeling it for days?" North’s voice clicks wetly on the word ‘fucked’ in a way it _never_ does over the comm.

"I love surprises," York gasps, and wriggles free just far enough to turn around and grab North by the shoulders "you bastard."

North smiles, and laughs “I know” into his mouth.


End file.
